#wardrobeverse

[sylphidine]

I... have no real explanations or regrets. Sometimes things just happen. But my love for the ferret was real.

This is so lovely, like all your work.

Pitch is not the only one to have a bit of nostalgia stuck in his eye.

Thank you, @blackbeeno3569

[sylphmacabre]

Fandom: Nightmare Dork University, an AU of RISE OF THE GUARDIANS that has become its own subfandom

'Verse - Wardrobeverse, Metaverse

Characters: Icicle Jack, Meta!Proto, Wangst Pitch [mentioned]

Rating: Mature

Summary: Watching and wanting what cannot be had. Set in the RotG AU known as the Wardrobeverse, originating in the "Wangst Comics" by ask-pitchs-wardrobe on Tumblr. Companion piece to "Somewhere Deep Inside Of These Bones".

Notes: Written as a request from @twistedxsaiyan

Originally posted on Archive Of Our Own on February 25, 2019.

You watch from your corner as the man who mirrors your lover sweeps your own mirror image into his embrace.

That clasping looks so much warmer, so much more solid, than the fierce and spiky couplings you and your lover subject one other to.

The devotion in the dark-haired human’s voice makes you weep when you think about the desperation you hear in your own voice, when you respond to similar devotion from your lover.  You hear the same desperation in the voice of your human doppleganger.

You do not understand why neither can hear the common threads of fear and loneliness that bind each other’s speech, the inchoate terror that marks the cadences of each other’s words.

“Oh, but they do hear themselves, little stalactite, but they’ll never admit that they do,” murmurs an unwelcome voice behind you.  Without turning to look, you know there will be a tall, smokily indistinct shape with too many limbs, a pale smooth unfurrowed face, and eyes of a violently incandescent blue, hovering at your shoulder.

Without being either booming or scratchy, the voice of that most dreaded, that most inscrutable and indefinable companion in your shadowed world reminds you, as it is meant to do, of the loud silence of anticipation of the next thunderclap as the last one rolls away, of the frantic skittering of insects as they flee from the disturbed safety of overturned loam in the forest.  That voice is meant to be feared, and fear it you do… but not as much as you fear the sound of disappointment in your lover’s voice.

You make an effort to suppress a shudder and to act as though your unwanted companion is not there, as you turn your attention back to the humans, one tall, one small.  The murmurs of “stop, hush, of course I’ll…” are a counterpoint to “thank you” and the hitching of breath that usually presages sobbing until emptied.

The familiarity is painful.  Your lover commands as often as he comforts.  You acquiesce far more often than you protest.

You want these two to be different, but the odds are that they will trace the same path of futility that you find yourself on.

You sigh and turn away, noticing as you do so that your dreaded companion has disappeared.

You do not know why that leaves you aching and lonely.

[366daysofnightmaredorks]

30 Days Of Nightmare Dorks - 2021 Edition

We’re counting down the days to this year’s celebration of eight years of the Wardrobeverse and Nightmare Dork University!

Event guidelines, the short version: Reblog older material or create new material on one, some, or all of the days in the month of April 2021.

Event guidelines, the long version:

The goal of this event is to post as much Nightmare Dork University material as possible each and every day during the month of April, to celebrate eight years of NDU.

This event will run primarily on Tumblr, but links to DeviantArt, Dreamwidth, Archive Of Our Own, etc. are acceptable. 

The event runs from 12:01AM Eastern US Time on Thursday, April 1st until 11:59PM EDT on Friday, April 30th.

Unlike other fandom events, there is not a hard-and-fast prompt list for each day.  There will be suggested prompts which will range from the sublime to the ridiculous, but no one *HAS* to use them.

Also unlike other fandom events, reblogs of previously created material are welcome, but creation of original material is welcome as well.

Inspiration can be drawn from the Wardrobeverse, the collegeverse, the metaverse, and any associated AUs. Your imagination is the only limit.

OCs are welcome and encouraged to interact with our NDU boys, as are other RotG/GoC characters.

Don’t feel like you ***must*** post a piece Every... Single... DAY.  Burnout is not fun.  But do try to post at least ONE piece during the month of April 2021.

Be sure to tag your works within the body of your entry with @366daysofnightmaredorks.  You can also use #30daysofndu or as #30 days of nightmare dorks in one of the first 5 tags, but that’s not always as reliable.

Visual, aural, textile, and literary works are allowed - fanart, fanfiction, gifs, edits/manips, cosplay, fanmixes, crafts, incorrect quotes, or ask-and-answer.  

Please tag works accordingly, and be sure to use any warnings for sensitive, taboo, and/or mature subjects.  

HAVE FUN, and support your fellow creators.

[the-wisp-of-the-north]

Pitch looks so done with them

“Happy Easter, Nightmare Kings.”

[sylphidine]

[NDU] Steeplechase

Written for the Day 3 prompt of the Nightmare Dork University Autumn Carnival over at @366daysofnightmaredorks.

-------

Katherine ran lightly down the front steps, pausing only to pet Professor Severnaya's brass owl that sat on the stone porch wall amidst Dr. Tushir’s pots of geraniums. It never ceased to amaze her how lucky she and Nightlight were to live here in this beautiful house.  Most grad students had to make do with potluck when it came to housing.  When the little placard showed up on a bulletin board, saying that two North Dale University instructors were looking for quiet tenants for the second-floor furnished flat in their double-decker, Katherine snatched it before anyone else could.  Tenants didn't get much quieter than Nightlight and her, after all.

Autumn leaves crunched under the soles of her shoes as she headed in to work at the NDU library for her 12noon to 8pm Friday shift. Nightlight had still been asleep; he didn't need to go on duty for Campus Security until 4.  They were both off work this weekend,  which didn't happen all too often, and Katherine was looking forward to sleeping in with him tomorrow, going out together to the farmer's market for fresh produce and cider doughnuts, and then watching Nightlight perform cooking miracles in the old-fashioned kitchen.

She was on the Reference Desk this week, which was both a blessing and a curse; it ranged from bursts of busyness to long stretches of boredom.  Fortunately, her boss Mr. Ombric didn't mind her writing or studying on the job, or listening to podcasts on her tablet if she kept the volume low.  Katherine was currently immersed in THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES for the second go-round, as she tried to catch up with the newest season. 

This early in the semester on a Friday, she had lots of uninterrupted time, and managed to get through episodes 116 through 118, and halfway through 119, before her attention was needed.  A brisk cough made her look up into the pale clever face of a student she vaguely recognized. 

His black hair was brushed back into fierce spikes that should have looked ridiculous, but did not. He wore a crisp charcoal-grey dress shirt with a black double-breasted buttoned vest. He looked down his long prominent nose at her over a pair of half-glasses.

Katherine felt her lips thinning and her nostrils flaring at the student's implied disapproval, but curbed the biting response she wanted to give.  Instead, she hit the pause button and said sweetly, "How may I help you today?"

"You're meant to have a selection of DVDs reserved for students in Professor Izzilee's 300-level film course 'Nihil Noctem'." It was a statement,  not a question.  "I need to review the list for this semester so that we don't duplicate it for next semester." The man's sharp chin jutted out at her as he added, "I'm her new TA."  He handed her his student ID card and a note from the instructor confirming that he, Pitch Black, had authorization and permission to borrow classroom materials.

Well, that explained his self-important demeanor.  As for his dress sense, Katherine would bet one of Nightlight's home-cooked meals that this man was probably a theatre major.

She nodded and bent to look in one of the cubbies below the desk for the syllabus binders.  When she stood up again, she was startled to see two people, not one, at the desk waiting for her; she hadn't heard anyone else approach.

And then she blinked, and there was only one again.

Feeling unsettled, Katherine did her best to stop her hands from shaking as she leafed through the binder and found Professor Izzilee’s movie list. She skimmed it quickly, noting that it was a mix of classics she knew and some moderns she did not. When she handed it to him, she expected the arrogant Pitch Black to sneer at the choices, but as his gaze roved over the titles, he actually seemed to be approving.

“Thank you, Miss..” he glanced at her name badge. “... Shalazar. You’ve been most helpful.  Enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that, he turned and walked away, pausing to greet a short boy with pale hair wearing an oversized blue sweater, who seemed very agitated. They left the library together.

The rest of Katherine’s shift remained quiet; she managed to finish episode 119, but only halfway heard it, her mind still coming back over and over again to her odd vision of two versions of the same student standing at the reference desk.

When 8pm came, she blamed the chilly night air rather than her nerves for accepting a ride from Phil and Henrietta, instead of walking home as she usually did.  Phil was a big gruff fellow, his younger sister Henrietta very nearly as tall and broad as he; both were sculpture students.  They occasionally did painting odd-jobs for Professor Severnaya, although they were known to grumble over his frequently changing his mind on a whim. Tonight, their no-nonsense stolidness was the perfect way to distract her from the weirdness earlier in the day.

She was happy to close the door on the second-floor landing and to see the warm browns and deep greens of the apartment, painted walls and polished wainscotting maintained with love, lamps shining through cheery yellow and red shades.  Katherine blessed Nightlight for making sure she didn’t walk into furniture in the dark.

She settled into a comfy armchair near the big bay window, curtains drawn to block out the streetlights. She ate the beef and barley soup leftover from lunch, and finished it off with some cheese and crackers. Then, her stomach more content and her mind less jangled, she pulled the ottoman closer and put her feet up.  Nightlight was on duty until midnight, and so Katherine decided to catch a nap before he came home.

She dozed off, and fell almost immediately into a nightmare.

She found herself walking on an alien planet, picking her way carefully between piles of dust. Long-untrod paths weaved in and out of a rotting, rusted skeleton of an immense steel horse, a structure that was at least fifty feet high.

Her clothes were not her own; she wore a dress whose skirt flared out with at least six stiff and frothy petticoats beneath it.  The skirt skimmed her knees and met the tops of high boots; both the skirt and the boots were decorated with fleurs-de-lis.  The feather cape around her shoulders complemented the long curling feather in her jaunty picture hat. 

An odd outfit to wear when strolling through a dead world.

She was startled by harsh grinding sounds above her, and looked up.

There were smaller steel horses coursing up and down the structure of the giant steel horse, reminding Katherine of roller coaster cars, speeding along at an incredible rate.

And on the back of one of the small horses rode the strange second figure she’d seen at the library, clad in a robe made of shadows, eyes burning out of a pale face, looking back at her with fierce intent.

And then the horse sprang loose from the tracks and FLEW towards her, its orange eyes shining, its black tail streaming metallic ribbons behind it, its rider grinning with horrible jagged teeth as it came nearer and nearer…

Nightlight’s hands on her shoulders startled Katherine into waking. She looked into his dear sweet face and shuddered in relief.

“She’s not one of your usual targets,” said the dark creature garbed in goo to its sharper, more angled twin. They stood together in the darkened doorway of one of the side rooms, unseen by the two humans in the living room.

The other figure replied, “I just get so bored, so bloody bored! And anyway, it will make it most amusingly awkward anytime she sees my pet project... she’ll have quite a few stories to tell.”

“Hmmmm,” mused the first, flicking away a stray blob of oily gunk with a dramatic wave of a viscously draped arm. “Can anyone play this mix-and-match game?”

“Certainly. Knock yourself out.”

-------

Author’s notes:

Professor Nik Severnaya and Doctor Tatleen Tushir first appeared in my story “We All Bleed”. Link at AO3.

Transcripts for the episodes of THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES that Katherine was listening to can be found here.

My thanks to one of my horror fam members for letting me “borrow” her as the unseen Professor for whom Pitch TA’s.

One of the movies on Professor Izzilee’s list is CARNIVAL OF SOULS, which Katherine has seen and which becomes an element in her dream.

Katherine’s outfit in her dream is inspired by this incredible artwork by @lumin0usfox 

This story will be continued in the Day 5 prompt “Cyclone”.

[366daysofnightmaredorks]

Gentlebeings and otherfolk!  Step right up, step right up!  

Please join us for 2020′s fall season event for the Nightmare Dork University fandom... THE NDU AUTUMN CARNIVAL!  

Seven days of thrills, chills, and spills.  Excitement and enjoyment guaranteed!

PLEASE INCLUDE @366daysofnightmaredorks​ IN YOUR POSTED ENTRIES.  Tumblr’s tagging system is not reliable, but we’ll also try to keep track of the tag #nducarnival.

Dates: 

Thursday, October 1st through Wednesday, October 7th

Characters: [NDU or EBU college setting, Wardrobeverse setting, any AU that you’d like to explore]

Pitch; Pitchiner; Proto; Piki; Jack Sickle; Winter King (future Jack Sickle); NDU Sera; EBU Pyotr; EBU Jack Frost; college versions of the Guardians; any and all OCs you’d care to include

Pairings: [Either romantic or platonic]

Nightmare Galleon (Pitch/Pitchiner); Stagefright (Piki/Jack Sickle); Oil and Smoke (Proto/Piki); Coffe and Cream (Pitch/Jack Sickle); Ice Crown (Pitchiner/Jack Sickle); Cold Shoulder (Proto/Jack Sickle); Winter Night (Piki/Winter King); Hatemuffin (Pitchiner/Proto); Paint It Black (Piki/Pitch); Black Ice (Pyotr/Jack Frost); Frostsicle (Jack Frost/Jack Sickle); Protean Stagefright (Proto/Jack Sickle/Piki); Black Intentions (Proto/Piki/Pitch)

Prompts: [Named after famous rides at Coney Island which is why “Carousell”, for example, is spelled with two l’s.  Can be used literally or metaphorically.]

DAY ONE - Carousell

DAY TWO - Caterpillar

DAY THREE - Steeplechase

DAY FOUR - Wonder Wheel

DAY FIVE - Cyclone

DAY SIX - Parachute Jump

DAY SEVEN - Spook-a-Rama

Formats welcome:

Fanfiction, fan art, cosplay, sculpture, textilia, podfic, moodboards... your imagination is the only limit.

[the-wisp-of-the-north]

*looks over at the wardrobeverse and NDU AUs*

Uh.. yup, that makes sense.

If book!Pitch and movie!Pitch met each other, they would absolutely fight to the death.

[sylphidine]

[Wardrobeverse] And I Grow So Weary Of The Sound Of Screams

This is for @twistedxsaiyan, as part of my birthday thank-you fic series.

FANDOM: Nightmare Dork University / Wardrobeverse

CHARACTERS: Icicle Jack, meta!Proto, Jack Sickle, Piki Black

SUMMARY: A switched POV from a scene in Somewhere Deep Inside of These Bones.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: To the absent-and-deeply-missed Dildarium, to @marypsue and to @emeraldembers who have written such wonderful NDU meta!verse Nightmare Kings, and to @hurtanminttu who created this playground.

WARNINGS: Angst. So Much Angst.

--------------------------------------------------

You watch from your corner as the man who mirrors your lover sweeps your own mirror image into his embrace.

That clasping looks so much warmer, so much more solid, than the fierce and spiky couplings you and your lover subject one another to.

The devotion in the dark-haired human’s voice makes you weep when you think about the desperation you hear in your own voice, when you respond to similar devotion from your lover.  You hear the same desperation in the voice of your human doppleganger.

You do not understand why neither can hear the common threads of fear and loneliness that bind each other’s speech, the inchoate terror that marks the cadences of each other’s words.

“Oh, but they do hear themselves, little stalactite, but they’ll never admit that they do,” murmurs an unwelcome voice behind you.  Without turning to look, you know there will be a tall, smokily indistinct shape with too many limbs, a pale smooth unfurrowed face, and eyes of a violently incandescent blue, hovering at your shoulder.

Without being either booming or scratchy, the voice of that most dreaded, that most inscrutable and indefinable companion in your shadowed world reminds you, as it is meant to do, of the loud silence of anticipation of the next thunderclap as the last one rolls away, of the frantic skittering of insects as they flee from the disturbed safety of overturned loam in the forest.  That voice is meant to be feared, and fear it you do… but not as much as you fear the sound of disappointment in your lover’s voice.

You make an effort to suppress a shudder and to act as though your unwanted companion is not there, as you turn your attention back to the humans, one tall, one small.  The murmurs of “stop, hush, of course I’ll…” are a counterpoint to “thank you” and the hitching of breath that usually presages sobbing until emptied.

The familiarity is painful.  Your lover commands as often as he comforts.  You acquiesce far more often than you protest.

You want these two to be different, but the odds are that they will trace the same path of futility that you find yourself on.

You sigh and turn away, noticing as you do so that your dreaded companion has disappeared.

You do not know why that leaves you aching and lonely.

[366daysofnightmaredorks]

UPDATE from mod Sylph, 22 March 2020... 

Some of you have asked for prompts this year for this years edition of 30DaysOfNDU, so I found a list that wasn’t too drippy sickly sweet.  Please feel free to use them if they inspire you.

However, if you wish to just make freeform contributions of art, story, crafts, etc., that’s fine too!

STARTS: WEDNESDAY, 1 APRIL 2020 at 12.01am US Eastern Time

ENDS: THURSDAY, 30 APRIL 2020 at 11:59pm US Eastern Time

[gretchensinister]

Nyeheheheheheh I found it. I found the blog with the comic and movie versions and also a species-swap AU all interacting. This is my specific and incredibly useless mutant power. To find the place in fandom where multiple versions of the same person hang out

[sylphidine]

I think I must try to write the Nightmare Dork University future!fic version of this, with teenage Sera discovering her father’s corsets and berating poor Pitch for them.

“Do you know how hard I’ve tried to make him look respectable and now you and your wardrobe come to ruin everything!!!?”

Mother Earth and the Great Intervention part 5. Poor book and movie Pitch, just when it seemed everyone were happy.

[sylphidine]

A Temptation Averted [RotG Fanfic]

Here’s some belated birthday Blackice for @miss-evening.  An itty bitty bit of meta and a whole lotta fluph.

[based on the prompt “ Person A is in bed reading a book. Person B enters and climbs into bed with them. Without looking up person A raises their arm so that person B can crawl under and snuggle up with them. Person B falls asleep. “]

The fairylights were a nice touch, Jack had to admit.  Twisted and twined around the blackwood columns of the four-poster bed, they gave an extra sparkle to the ice and frost he’d embedded in the elaborate carvings on the bedposts..

The pretty effect made Pitch’s shark-toothed grin, when he brought the string of lights home, a fully justified one.

This was their new bed, their “book at bedtime” bed; the Lair had manifested this bedroom, fully furnished with bookcases, end tables, reading lamps, and a sinister-looking armoire with half-moon cutouts in each door, a few weeks after Jack had repeatedly fallen asleep on the couch in Pitch’s library with a book on his chest.

Pitch had explained, when Jack first moved in, that the Lair would manifest new rooms and hide or eliminate old ones from time to time; it was sensitive to the moods of those who lived in it.  It also manifested items at will in those rooms, albeit not immediately.  It seemed to relish taking the slow path in regards to its magic.  Perfectly understandable in the case of serving the needs and wants of an aeons-old spirit, but a bit frustrating to a “gotta-have-it-now” guy like Jack.

The frost sprite wondered how far back, and why, it had manifested the Snuggery, a room filled with nothing but huge blankets and multitudinous pillows and cushions, enough to make the best couch forts ever.  He wasn’t complaining, mind you, but he did have to laugh at the thought of Pitch taking power naps in an enormous cat bed.  Spooky, scary Nightmare King with a marshmallow centre.

On the other hand, the diabolical dentistry dungeon… the less thought about, the better.

Pitch’s old bedroom, with its spartan bedframe and ridiculously hard mattress, had been abandoned once he and Jack had started the physical side of their relationship.  They both enjoyed this one a lot more, for sex, for sleeping, and for reading aloud to one another.

It was June, and Jack had spent the last week in Chile, overseeing some Andean snow and playing with kids whose parents were serious skiers.  The Lair had access points all over the world, and those access points were open to Jack now as well as to Pitch.  

Jack hitched himself up on the black overstuffed backrest, sliding a bit on the black satin sheets.  He was tired, but hoped that Pitch would return soon from his rounds of herding Nightmares.  They were in the midst of reading a book series together, a septology dealing with literary figures who were called upon to become Caretakers of a place called the Archipelago of Dreams.  The elder spirit and the younger had both found themselves thoroughly absorbed as chapter after chapter developed its twists and turns, and had both hated to pause and return to their various duties as Guardians.

In the latest book, they’d just been introduced to a new Caretaker named Lloyd, described as a long-shanked knave with a mighty nose; Jack had smiled at that passage, so reminiscent of his lanky lover.  Pitch had merely snorted.

Jack’s fingers fairly itched to just sneak a peek at an upcoming chapter, or to flip through the extraordinary illustrations, but that would be cheating Pitch out of the pleasure of mutual discovery of the unfolding tale.  The Guardian of Fun consoled himself by imagining the Guardian of Caution as one of the Caretakers, an archivist of sorts who collected horror stories.

Sighing, Jack picked up a different book, one that he and Pitch had read before - THE TOWER GANG by Theseus Jones.  He soon got lost in the witty banter of famous people who were badly mismatched housemates in the Afterlife, and kept turning pages without any sense of time going by.

====================

Shadows curled and writhed in the corner of the room housing the warped black armoire.  An oily fog began to ooze and drift across the floor towards the bed.

On the other side of the room, a disembodied pair of silver-gold eyes opened and glared.  With a sniff of irritation, the oily fog retreated back into the wardrobe and closed the door.

The owner of the silver-gold eyes wrapped shadows around himself, coalesced into solidity, and sighed.  Stars and moons, he was tired.  He looked fondly over at the spiky thatch of white hair bent over the book perched on knees drawn up under the bedclothes.

It was so good to be home.

It was so good to have Jack to come home to.

Pitch made his way over to the bed, intending to crawl in without fanfare.  He was therefore startled and gave out an undignified squawk when, in one fluid sequence, Jack lifted one arm away from his book, looped it around the Boogeyman’s torso, hauled him up onto the mattress, onto his blue-hoodied chest and against his bony blue-hoodied shoulder, and dropped his arm back down to hold Pitch snugly in place, seemingly without a single break in concentration.

The dark Guardian grinned quietly, and his chuckle turned into a yawn.  He closed his eyes and drifted into slumber to the soft susurrus of turning pages.

[366daysofnightmaredorks]

“Nightmares are like cats. You don't want to get up when they're napping on your lap.”  Wardrobeverse Pitchiner, Wardrobeverse Proto, and the trouble caused by just ONE mini-mare.  Artwork by @ksclaw

https://ks-claw.dreamwidth.org/2685.html

[sylphidine]

It’s @ksclaw‘s birthday, and again life has gotten in the way, but I thought I’d give you a snippet of Chapter 8 of “This Sort Of Thing”, the world’s most slowly written birthday fic EVER. :::self-deprecating grin:::

[I am still trying my damndest to get to the giant robot spider.]

Chapters 1 through 7 on AO3.

=============================

The scene in the parlour rapidly changed once the humans had departed.

Spirits shed their glamour, regaining their accustomed fur, feathers, wings, height, skin tones, carapaces, mandibles, extra limbs, and extra eyes.

Piki Black and Pitch Black bookended one another in their long black robes roiling with shadows, seated in matching armchairs. Piki's robe had a constant flowing oily motion that would have been very disconcerting to any eyes but those gathered here.  Pitch's robe was sleeker, as was his crest of hair.  Both still wore their human eyewear, Pitch with his half-moon spectacles and Piki with his round tinted ones, both seemingly unaware of the affectation.

The third fear spirit in the room stood nearly nine feet tall, but was currently slouching to lean an elbow on the mantel above the roaring fire, dashing and rakish in his buccaneer's coat of black and scarlet.

Assorted Guardians and nature spirits stood, perched, hovered, and sat in clusters about the room, alternately looking at North, Pitch and Jack.

Pitch broke the silence.  "Now that your humanoid presences have been noted by our village residents..." he began.

"And any gossip should roll along under its own steam," interjected Pitchiner.

The brothers Black both shot Pitchiner equally dark glares in unison.  They had to admit the giant had a point, but old habits died hard.  Pitch drawled caustically, "Yes, gossip has been seeded, to run in the channels we desire.  But, as I was saying, the town now knows you're here, and has gotten used to seeing some of you out and about, as well as getting used to others of us tucked away at their own.... scientific... pursuits."  He too looked over at North.  "This means that we can all investigate, in shifts, pairs or teams, the threat that has been brought to our attention.  The threat that is unbalancing human development and invention, both necessary to their survival."

He turned his head to grin at Alida, Melia, Doris, Iansa and Tyva in turn.  "Like old times, hmmmm?  The young ones need us relics to show them how  it's done."

[sylphidine]

These models give me SUCH a Wardrobeverse vibe.  Definite NDU story fodder.  Also art fodder for those who draw.

‘Rebel Riders’, Vogue Italia December 2015. Photographer: Tim Walker Featuring models Anna Cleveland, Christina Carey, Erin O'Connor and Jamie Bochert. Styled by Jacob K; Makeup by Val Garland; hair by Julien D'ys

[366daysofnightmaredorks]

Here a Nightmare King, there a Nightmare King, here there everywhere.....